Back to the Beginning
by Chestnutlass
Summary: What is it like to see the body of a man you know, but he is not really there? What if the memories do not return? What if it means starting over? With no baggage, no past, no “line?” What could life be then? My own cathartic musings of EitB. *EPILOGUE UP
1. Three Little Words

Author's Note: I am sure that nearly every writer is trying to wrap their head around this bombshell of an episode. As if writing a continuation will somehow make the pain of waiting more bearable. I like to think that is what Brennan was doing as she waited. Writing her version of fan fiction. Trying to make heads or tails of it all, trying to pass the time. Trying to have a cathartic release of all the questions that swirl about. Welcome to the world of Fanfiction Dr Brennan.

Three Little Words

Life could move unbearably slow when you are waiting, especially waiting unable to breathe. Brennan hadn't felt oxygen in her lungs for four days.

Each day was a revolving door; friends, family, agents, his priest each one came. She tried to be friendly when they were there, knowing it is what he would want. The truth was she wanted nothing but to be alone, to sit the in the quiet room and listen to him breathe.

One day it finally happened. In a quiet moment his eyes softly fluttered open. She moved swiftly but calmly to be by his side. She didn't want to startle him. "Booth?" She called softly, barely containing the urge to throw her arms around him. She tried to reassure him in soft soothing tones. He tried to look at her, but his gaze was unfocused.

He was confused, and was talking about something being "real." Brennan couldn't really hear or understand, the rushing sound of her own racing heart drowned out nearly everything. But she did clearly hear him say three little words. Not the three little words that she longed for. Instead they sent her world crashing instantly in a million tiny pieces. Three little words that would change everything…"Who are you?"

The doctors were in the room examining Booth and she was relegated to the hallway. That one question sent her world crashing down around her once again. Who are you? It was a fair question. Who was she? Who was she to him? For a brief moment it was like a montage going through her head, all the times he knew her better than she knew herself. She thought back to that awful day on the pig farm, when he held her and told her 'I know who you are.' It wasn't just that he knew she was Temperance not Joy. It was that he knew HER. She would give anything for him to say those words now.

For the next week Brennan continued to sit a near endless vigil in the hospital. Something she would give Booth a break and wait in the lounge instead of his room. Most times he seemed to prefer her presence so she would remain right by his side. Test after test showed that Booth was making a superior recovery. There appeared to be no indication of impairment. He passed all tests with flying colors. Save one.

After extensive interviews with a psychologist it came to be understood that he had concrete memories that began in early childhood. He had met with another psychologist named Sweets, but it was clear that he cared too much about Booth to do a very objective job of treating him. He was sure of himself up until about the time he left the military. He could recall in near perfect vivid detail each mission, each target. His life at the FBI is where it started to become unclear. Things were still there but detached and in pieces.

He knew he had a child, but didn't know anything about him. He knew he was an agent, but couldn't give information on any case. There were other memories. He recognized Dr. Wyatt's picture, but didn't know his name. He recalled building a barbeque with the man. The name Zack Addy meant something, he just didn't know what. But for the most part everything else, including his partner, was a dark gaping abyss.

He knew that the woman who sat in his room was beautiful. He didn't need memories to see that. His observation could also tell him that she was dedicated, she rarely left his side. The deep worry lines in her face told him that she cared very deeply for him. And he knew he must care for her, because despite not knowing her, the pain in her eyes broke his heart. She was brilliant sometimes she would ramble about things to fill the silence between them. He rarely understood what she was talking about but he actually rather enjoyed trying. He somehow got the feeling that for the most part he would be just as confused even if his brain was completely intact. In comfortable moments she would hold his hand, and it felt as if even if he didn't, his hand recognized hers.

Brennan tried to rationalize Booth's condition. Knowing that it was not just her, but whole parts of his life that disappeared. But even she knew that deep down it hurt that he didn't remember her. Not even a passing shadow. He knew Zack but not her. She suspected that guilt is what he remembered about Zack. Guilt was something they all dealt with when it came to the loss of their friend. Guilt was something that always was foremost in Booth's mind, this version of him would be no different. He was still Booth, despite the fear and uncertainty she could still see a hit of the sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes.

Booth felt honored at the number of visitors that he had but was having trouble keeping track of them all. He didn't really recognize any of them. Someone said once that they were trying to reach his brother, but he was far away in India, and hadn't been contacted yet. He realized that all of the people that seemed to matter in his life hadn't been in it for more than a few years. It was as if his life began when he started working with the Jeffersonian. He found that he was far more comfortable with their visits if Brennan was there to help him navigate. She had become the one constant in his dizzying world. Rarely ruffled, instead she would give him mini summaries of his life, enough to understand the other people in his room. He appreciated it more then he could say. He may not remember her, but that didn't mean he couldn't like the woman he just met.

Booth had learned so much about the rest of his life from Brennan, but he noticed that she intentionally did not go into much detail about herself. Occasionally some other visitor would start to say something and would get shot down with a single look from those ice blue eyes. Part of him was afraid to ask, afraid that if he pushed she would go away. But one day his curiosity was stronger than the fear.

"What am I?….you know to you?" Booth asked quietly, out of nowhere one afternoon.

She looked at him with her gentle eyes and simply said. "You're my partner, with the FBI and…and you're my friend."

Somehow he felt there was more. "Were we close?"

She thought for a minute, and looked like she was having an argument with herself, and finally said "Well if by close you mean I tell you things I tell no one else. Than yes we're close. If you mean that I look forward to seeing you, then yes we were close. You were a friend, a good friend."

"Are you my best friend?" He asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

"Well Booth, I can't say how you felt about me. I wasn't in your head, that isn't logical. But I can say with certainty that you were mine."

As the days progressed it became increasing clear that Booth counted on Brennan. He no longer called her Bones. He said it didn't feel right. No one really cared or pushed, so he called her Brennan just like everyone else. He looked forward to her visits, except when the dark shadow crossed her face, the one she got when she realized that he still didn't know her. His friends had brought him things from home. Pictures, clothes, magazines, they flooded him with images that were supposed to be familiar. While it helped him get a better sense of things it didn't really make anything "click."

On the tenth day of Booth's hospitalization he was cleared to return home. The surgery seemed successful and all physical scans of his brain showed that it was safe to release him. Panic shot across his face when the doctor came in to give him the news. Where was he going to go, he didn't even know where he lived. But once again there was a calmness coming from over his right shoulder. "He'll come home with me. Just get us the release papers." Once again he felt grateful for his friend.


	2. A Quiet Life

A Quiet Life

It had been Sweets idea that she bring Booth to her apartment. It was larger and brighter and closer to both the Jeffersonian and the Hoover building. More than that Sweets thought that it would allow Booth to feel more in control. He would feel less pressure to remember her apartment than his own. Within three hours, Sweets had made all of the arrangements for Booth's release and Angela and Jack had Brennan's apartment ready.

Her apartment was nice, and very tidy. But it wasn't familiar. It was like walking into a hotel room for the first time.

"Okay Booth." She said matter-of-factly. "I had Hodgins and Angela set up my office as a room for you. They brought over all the things that you might need, clothes and such. The door at the end of the hall is the bathroom, and the kitchen is right through the living room."

Booth looked around. He had never seen so many books. Well not that he remembered anyway. He picked up a large wooden mask from a shelf, and looked at it carefully. "Have I been here before?"

Once again he saw the internal struggle as if she was wondering what to tell him. She finally figured that it wouldn't help his recovery to lie to him. "Actually you have. Many times. Not all happy. You were once blown up in my kitchen. And over there by the bookshelves we once found a pool of blood. You have often brought me late night Chinese food when you know that I am sad or hurting. Once you followed a serial killer here, and he fell from the balcony."

"Wow." He looked at her amazed, but not afraid. "Sounds like you and I lead an exciting life. But if it is okay with you I would prefer if we only repeat one of those events. The Chinese food." He paused and looked at her with a look she had nearly forgotten. "Except for the part where you're sad." Brennan saw something she hadn't seen in so long, a very familiar affable smile.

She returned the smile. "Chinese sounds great. I will make a call."

After spending the weekend at her house together life began to resume for Brennan and Booth, even though it looked markedly different from the life they used to lead. Each morning Brennan would get up and make breakfast, which Booth would always come out of his room to eat. They would sit in comfortable silence most mornings before she left him to go back to work. He would remain, as he was still on medical leave. She would call him at lunch, check in. He would often leave after her call to go on a walk through the neighborhood. He was on limited activity, but the fresh air seemed to do him well. Brennan's life was also drastically altered; she was no longer in the lab, late into the night. Instead she often left right at five, bringing home a few case files to look at later in the evening.

One of her favorite things was that Booth, often bored, would watch cooking shows on TV and when she arrived, he was often in the midst of some "creation" or another. Some of it was delicious and other days in went right in the trash, either way there was something comfortable about watching him in her kitchen. When dinner was a disaster they went to the diner. Apparently it was a place they frequented and everyone was always happy to see them. He wasn't sure what he ordered, she knew. Sometimes the others from the lab would join them, at home or the diner, but often it was just the two of them. It was his favorite part of the day. She would sit across from him, leaning in and tell him about her day, the job, their old adventures, his life. He noticed that she occasionally snuck food off his plate. He couldn't help but wonder if they always were this comfortable together, he hoped so.

He was having more flashes, often times late in the night. Sometimes he would wake shouting, happy because he remembered something, or sad because the image didn't last. He always apologized for waking her, and she always hugged him and said it was her favorite part of the day. She was glad that he was remembering, but knew that there were many secrets better left forgotten.

Rebecca had been bringing his son Parker over to visit after school. Parker fearfully clung to her that first day; as if he didn't recognize Booth any more than Booth recognized him. Parker was a delightful, sweet little boy. He had his father's charming smile and seemed bright for his age, not that Booth had any comparison. Soon the tension lessened, each time they came seemed to go a little easier and therefore the visit would last a little longer. Sometimes they would go play in the park, others they would sit and watch cartoons. One afternoon Rebecca asked if Parker could stay alone, she really needed to go to a meeting at work. Although hesitant, Booth readily agreed, especially knowing the Brennan was due home soon.

She arrived to watch father and son trying their best to make homemade meatballs. The scene was one of the most touching things she had ever witnessed. He seemed too relaxed in the presence of his son, and there was a quiet camaraderie between them. They hadn't heard her come in, so she stood there for a long time soaking it all in. Their matching stances and identical smiles, the smear of sauce across Booth's face. The fact that her kitchen was a disaster. The funny twists and turns of life. She thought that he might have died, when he didn't know her she was sure their friendship was broken. But here they were closer than ever. It amazed her how quickly the two of them had settled into this quiet life. She still worried about the holes in his memory, and about how he would return to work. She still waited for the day he would remember "them." She dreaded the day he remembered the baby question. She was terrified that one day he would remember too much.

But instead of being afraid she walked up behind them and joined in the fun.

Later that night long after Parker had gone home, the two sat on the sofa as they often did at night. Brennan tapped away at her laptop, Booth shouted at a sports game. Instinctively their bodies started shifting toward one another until her legs were across his lap and his hand was on her thigh. She sat up right and leaned forward to reach for a file from her bag on the far side of the couch; her face brushed past his. He reached out and cradled her chin in his hands, swept her dark hair behind her ear. He looked deep into her eyes and did what he had been dying to do for weeks. He kissed her….

And she kissed him back.

That night, long after they were a tangle of limbs, she leaned up on her elbow and looked at him. "Are you happy?" She asked.

At first the questions startled, he wasn't sure. She was always honest with him. He reached up to her in the moonlight and pulled her back down into his arms. "I am. I just wish that I knew if I was ever happy before. I feel like I was. I get this sense that I had a life that was good, that is somewhere waiting for me. Where someone is… missing me. But I know that isn't true. You're right here, you're everything." He kissed her lightly on the head. "You would know better, you are the one that has a past to compare too. Are we happy?"

She stared up into the darkness. He couldn't see the tear that had fallen down her cheek. "Yeah, Booth. In this moment we are happy." She listened as his breathing settled into the soft rhythm of sleep. How could she be so happy, feel so loved, and still feel her heart breaking?

She knew why. It was because they were living a lie. He was with the stranger that he met at the hospital, not with her. He didn't know her past. He didn't know who she was or when she had been. Where they had been. For once he didn't see her as a wounded bird that he had to protect. In this reality she got to protect him. In this world there was no line drawn in the sand to shield partners and hearts. One day this would break and she would be left with only memories, ironic given the situation. Somewhere there was a life that Booth lead, somewhere there was someone waiting for him, missing him. She should know… that someone was her.


	3. Cowboy in the Saddle

Celebration

Brennan did what she did best. She suppressed the pain she felt that first night. She decided if he could love her as Brennan, woman from the hospital. She could love him as Booth, man without a past. They could be strangers who fell victim to love, or at least interest, at first sight. A cliché but at least it put her in Booth's arms. She had to let go of the past, of his past specifically, if they were going to move forward. Rationally she knew that her former partner and current lover were one in the same man, but he didn't. Maybe she needed to compartmentalize these two halves of the same man. But was it possible to truly love one half while mourning the loss of their other?

Booth no longer kept the spare bedroom. It had been turned back into an office. It was their office. He no longer needed it as he had taken up permanent residence in her room. After that first night things had quickly progressed and now they were now in every sense of the word, living together. They had told no one, yet everyone knew. To everyone that cared about them their life was an open book. Cautiously optimistic was the phrase the squints decided to use. They had always belonged together but relationships based on traumatic experiences have a tough go of it.

It was reason to celebrate in their little family when Director Cullen felt that with close examination Booth could return to limited duty. While he might not remember his time with the FBI he still had all of the skills that got him hired in the first place. Agent Perotta would remain as the interim liaison to the Jeffersonian, but she promised to relinquish the title when Booth felt prepared to return.

Brennan invited all of their friends to her house for an impromptu dinner party. She decided to make her macaroni and cheese, it was his favorite, or _was_ his favorite.

That night felt almost like old times; Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Sweets, Daisy, Wendell even Dr. Gordon all came to wish their beloved friend the very best. The casual effortless friendship seemed to have returned for the little group giving the evening even more special meaning. Her heart felt like it would burst, she was so happy for him, and yet part of her was paralyzed. What if once he left the safety of their little nest, he would decide he didn't need her, he didn't really love her?

He could see the worry on her face, the past eight weeks he had become something of an expert on the face of his mystery woman. The concern was for him, that much he knew. But the source of her anxiety was another matter. She wouldn't want to talk about it; she wasn't always comfortable with words. Somewhere inside he knew that this had always their way. So that night he did everything he could to allay her fears….twice.

His office was just as he left it, or so he was told, minus a few files that had been reassigned to other agents. He spent the first day getting acclimated to his 'new' surroundings. There was a picture of Parker taken several years earlier and one of his brother and the team from the Jeffersonian crowded around a cake that said "Happy Birthday Booth." There was a bobble head doll of an English Bobby; he would have to ask someone what that was all about. There was hockey memorabilia, some of which he actually recognized! Commendations and awards covered the walls. He studied each one, desperately wishing that he could remember the events that earned them. He felt like he lived in a fishbowl as every agent in the building came by to see the prodigal son return.

It felt good to be useful, to leave the apartment. He reviewed the two files that Director Cullen left on his desk. They were old cases where he had to review notes to create a final file. It was weird looking at his own handwriting and finding the words completely foreign. Fortunately these files were of lower level criminals and the files weren't elaborate. At lunch the other agents had pizza brought in a sort of "Welcome Back Party." While he didn't recognize anyone, except for a few agents that had come by to visit a time or two, he found that he enjoyed the company. Any fear that he had about making this step began to evaporate. He could do this. Despite all the warm wishes, the joy of being back to work and the general comfort he felt in his office, he still counted down the hours till he could go home to Brennan.

Across town at the Jeffersonian Brennan was preoccupied with thoughts of Booth at work. Was he alright? Was all the attention bothering him? Was he overwhelmed? When Agent Perotta arrived with a new set of remains that afternoon Brennan released a sea of questions. Perotta did her best to assure everyone that Seeley was doing just fine and was actually acclimating very well back at work. Something that wasn't a surprise, he always had a knack for dealing with new situations. But still she counted down the hours till she could go home to Booth.

Trying to ignore the churning at the pit of her stomach Brennan threw herself into work. It wasn't hard, with her reduced hours and everyone being so preoccupied the backlog in limbo was getting overwhelming. One skeleton reconstruction gave way to another, and she was quite successful in getting time to evaporate. Suddenly she heard her cell phone buzz. She saw the time and was surprised that it was already so late; she had meant to leave an hour ago. The waiting message could only be from one person. It was simple yet said volumes…. "Come home to me." She didn't have to be asked twice.


	4. Spilt Milk

Author's Note: They can't always live happily. Things bend and they break. I felt that they needed a little push. I still think that is really the point of Hart Hanson's direction with the show. He wants to push them. We know that they are perfect for each other; he is letting us know that he agrees. They just still have work to do. Thanks to all of you who reviewed and set as a favorite. I really do write this to try and comfort myself as I wait for things to come. I am a school teacher wishing away her summer with hopes for Brennan and Booth. I wish you can all find a little solace here too.

Crying Over Spilt Milk

Three months to the day since his surgery and life was just about perfect as far as Booth was concerned. He had finally gotten back into the swing of things at work, and found that he really enjoyed interrogating suspects. Things in his life felt familiar, even if he still had mostly blank space for a past. His son was spending nearly every weekend with him and he never thought he could love a child more. And of course there was Brennan. How many men got to say that their lovers were also their best friend? It was a perfect sunny day, the kind that comes at the end of summer, still hot but there is a hint of cooler things to come.

He sat with his two favorite people in the world at the stadium for the Baltimore Orioles. It was a big game, and had been a gift from Brennan. She knew that this was a big day for them. It was in their mind an anniversary of starting a life together. He couldn't imagine that his life had been any better before the surgery, but he had finally gotten to the point where he really didn't care if he ever regained his past. As he put one arm around his son and the other around his girl, he knew the present was more than enough.

They were a family. He felt it, each time he stared deeply into her crystal blue eyes. Yet no matter how close they got, and sometimes they got VERY close, he knew that there were things she kept hidden. Once he had tried to ask Angela to shed a little light on the woman he had come to depend on. She had quietly told him that it wasn't her place to tell him, and maybe he should just ask Brennan. Somehow he doubted that to be a good idea. So instead he waited, waited for her to feel that she could be open to him. He actually began to wonder how much he would know about her even with his memories intact, if she hadn't shared these things with her lover, would she really have shared them with a friend? Somehow he knew that the secret to their relationship was bundled up in her own personal demons.

The next week was particularly rough on both of them. For some reason an unexpected late summer heat wave sent the city into chaos. Brennan was working two different murders with Perotta. One was found in an abandoned ice cream truck and the other was apparently fed to the bears at the National Zoo. His desk was also beginning to amass a decent caseload, and needing to look up FBI protocol for everything was time consuming. They both worked late every night, traffic awful, the heat was unbearable and everyone in town seemed to be crankier than a starving two year old without a nap. Tempers everywhere were at an all time high.

Booth found himself stalking up the stairs late, with a dark mood after arguing with Cullen at the office. He was getting tired of being treated like there was something wrong with him. He was doing a good job, a damn good job, but the older man stared over his shoulder constantly. When he arrived at the apartment he discovered that she wasn't home yet, so he went over the fridge to grab a beer. At a second thought he grabbed two as he took off his dress shirt and went to watch the end of a game.

Two hours later she came in the door much the same way he did, tired and irritable. She looked at them empty couch, his shirt hanging of the back of the chair and the empty beer bottles on her coffee table. Walking into the kitchen she saw that there were breakfast dishes still in the sink. Without a word she started washing up and loading the dishwasher. He heard her banging from the bedroom and went out to see her, but could feel her intensity the second he entered to room. "Hey, Bren I am sorry I left a mess, leave it and come to bed." He went to put his arm around her, but she moved away busying herself with the dishes.

"No, I want to clean the kitchen first."

"I am sorry. I should have taken care of it this morning." He once again reached to her but she pulled away.

"It's fine. I don't mind. It's late. Go to bed." Her words said fine, her tone did not. Then she stopped, just froze for a second, standing there with dirty frying pan in her hand. "No. Booth wait. I'm sorry I shouldn't be so short. It was a long day. It's not your fault."

"Thanks, but I really should have done it. I promised and I was home first. So why don't you let me do it now?" He gave her that warm chocolate stare that usually curled her toes. Today he got nothing.

"No, I am almost done. Go to bed." At that moment she turned to open the fridge and a carton of milk fell out. Booth had moved it to the door when he was trying to reach the beer. Milk seeped across the floor as Brennan cursed. "Damn!"

Once again Booth felt guilty. "God, I'm sorry I don't know what I was thinking. I know it shouldn't be there, let me get a paper towel."

"I got it, its fine, just go." Her voice was short as she leaned down to pick up the now empty carton.

Something about her stance annoyed him. She was mad, but wouldn't say anything. She NEVER said anything. She would never fight with him. Somehow that royally pissed him off. "If you're mad just say so. I did something stupid. I can take it!" He realized too late that he was yelling.

"I am fine Booth. I said I am fine and I am fine!" Now he wasn't the only one yelling. It was their first fight, and it was literally over spilt milk.

"No you're not fine. Fine people don't yell!" He was starting to get very upset. I feeling he didn't remember having before. "Besides just because you said it, doesn't make it the truth!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Now he had hit a nerve.

"All I am saying is that you are not always forthcoming about how you feel, or what you're really thinking. You push everything down. You never let anything out." His voice had gotten quiet but his words still were cutting.

Once again someone was saying that she was closed off. She didn't want to upset him. She wanted to protect him. She wanted to protect herself. She wanted things to stay just as they were.

The silence finally got to Booth. "FINE" he over emphasized her new favorite word. "I am going to bed!"


	5. Not Broken

Not Broken

She watched as he stormed off down the hall. She could hardly believe she had lost her temper with him. It was silly. He shouldn't be upset and so she followed him down the hall. Desperate to get to him. She felt panicked as she opened the bedroom door. "Please Booth. I am sorry."

He looked at her, his face was hurt not angry. "You're only sorry because I got upset. You are always trying to protect me. But I don't need you to shield my feelings. How long are we going to be here, standing in this place with you still thinking that I am broken. There may be holes in my memory but there is nothing wrong with me. I am tired of waiting for you to realize that this man, the man I am NOW loves you. Wants to be with you. But you're so damn afraid of me that you shut me out. You think I don't know that you hide things, that you keep our friends from talking about things. But I know I know that there is more to this story. I know that there is pain you won't let me share. But I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that this….that this is enough." He shocked himself that he said it. Had he ever been angry at her before? Not that he remembered.

Standing there with her face set in stone she looked at him. He was right, she had known this day was coming for a long time. When he decided that she wasn't enough and would leave. Everyone always leaves. Well, she had discovered a long time ago that the hurt is less if she ran first. Her feet were itching to run, but it was like she was made of lead, unable to move.

He didn't want to hurt her, you never want to hurt the one's you love. But it is inevitable. Looking into her face he could see that this was not the first time that they had argued. He went to reach out to touch her, she always responded better to his touch then words. But she backed away and slunk toward the corner, slumped to the floor like an injured animal.

It came as a flash. A cemetery. She was wearing her dark blue overcoat a white blouse peaked through. Their friends were all in black. Who had died? Her face had the same stony look she had given him earlier. Lost, hurt, terrified but trying to be stoic, starring ahead with unfocused eyes. The same tears threatened. Where was he? These were all of his friends. Why wasn't he there with them, why wasn't he with her comforting her? Who ever had died obviously meant the world to her. She was standing next to the casket, she was talking, rambling really, he didn't know her to ramble. He heard her words crystal clear, as if the woman in the room had spoken them at that moment, "If there is a God why did he let Booth die?" How could this be a memory? Was it just a bad dream? What had happened in his other life? The memory continued to play out as if watching a movie. He then saw himself standing to one side dressed in a military uniform. He struggled with a man and his gun. She stepped in, saved him really, and then slugged him.

"I remember you" he said quietly. She didn't respond. "There was a funeral for me, but I don't understand. You were there, trying not to cry, but I could see that I hurt you. Did you think I was dead? Why would I do that to you?" His voice shook a little. How much pain had he caused this woman before?

She didn't look at him but kept her gaze firmly at her feet. Afraid to make a move. "You were trying to catch a bad guy. I was supposed to be informed, but wasn't. Yes I thought you were dead. For two weeks. The longest two weeks of my entire life. I am sorry that is your first memory of me. I shouldn't have hit you that day." She sharply inhaled and looked up at him. Her blue eyes finally letting the tears flow. "We never really talked about it, even before you lost your memory. You came back, we went on with our job, I broke into your house, you apologized. But I never told you about those two weeks. You said I protect you from the hurt. Do you want to hear about those days now?"

He went over and sat on the floor next to her, and held her hand. She put her head on his shoulder. He rested his head on hers. They had sat like this before, in a stairwell. They were sharing pain. Pain over the loss of a friend. He could see them, but he didn't know the story behind the image. But he could feel her pain in his heart. He was about to ask, but she started telling him a story.

"It was a case about a young man, a personal trainer and aspiring singer. Found dead in a field…."

For two hours she told him the story. She told him of Pam Nunan, and singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." She told him of the shot, and of begging him to stay. She told him of the hospital, of the waiting room, of the doctor coming out to say that he was gone. After his "death" she buried herself in her work, the nights crying in her apartment. She drove to his apartment and cried outside the door. That she had refused to go to the funeral, but Angela had forced her. Of how she spent the entire time wishing she could jump in the ground with him. Each time she spoke, he could actually see a little more, and he questioned the details, all of which he got right. He truly remembered this event. He suddenly remembered what happened next.

"Did you come to me in the…in the… tub? I was relaxing and you broke in. I was shocked and annoyed but most of all I was glad to see you. I wasn't sure if you would forgive me after the cemetery."

She looked at him and nodded.

He smiled. "I wonder where my beer hat is?"


	6. The Next Morning

The Morning After

When he woke he heard rain, the dim, dreary light made it impossible to pinpoint how late they had slept. He had never been so glad for Saturday, while they both knew they would eventually go to work, no one was counting on them to be there at an early hour. Last night had been amazing, not just making love to her, but the fact that she finally told him a piece of truth. He had been able to show her that anything she told him wouldn't push him away. Each insight, each moment, only made him love her more. Nuzzling her neck once more he rolled out of the bed.

The movement of the bed gently brought her back to consciousness. The fear in the pit of her stomach returned. Nothing he said could ever make it really dissipate. Now she knew the truth, he hated the secrets. Secrets he was remembering. After three months she had started to believe that perhaps the past could stay buried with the dead. How naive. They day would come that he would know everything; the day would come when he would be gone.

He entered back into the room carrying two cups of steaming coffee. He wordlessly handed her one, and realized that his reaction to the previous night was vastly different from hers. It seemed that while he felt like he could fly, she was struggling under the weight of the world. Standing there at the foot of the bed, he watched her slowly take a sip. How he wished he knew how to unlock the depths of those endless eyes. For the first time in months, he truly tried to think about the past. Pushing himself to focus only every little glimmer he had seen, to piece together the puzzle of his own mind. Trained in solving crimes, his own life shouldn't be so hard to understand. He sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes tightly, desperate to reach that part of his mind that had been trapped.

**Author's Note: I Know this is an incredibly short chapter. But the next part seemed more powerful as a stand alone. It will be up first thing tommorrow! **


	7. The Flood

The Flood

Sitting there on the edge of the bed he pushed, pushed to see what was behind the veil. He had been content with this existence for too long. Maybe he didn't want to get the memories back, maybe Brennan was right, and maybe he would realize this wasn't his life. Breaking forever the delicate love they had created.

The flashes came so bright, so quickly it was almost like being caught on an out of control merry-go- round.

A merry-go-round,

his son,

panic,

a serial killer,

Howard Epps,

the blondes,

Her balcony,

the postal worker,

Jasper the pig,

Brainy Smurf,

the brain trust,

the gravedigger,

the sand,

the fear,

the submarine,

her tears,

her embrace,

the blood,

the truth,

the lies,

burying her mother,

burying the dog,

finding her brother,

the mistletoe,

the tree with lights,

the Christmas lung fungus,

the robot,

Zack,

Zack in Iraq,

the explosion,

Gormogon,

the car accident,

the convertible in LA,

the tightrope at the circus,

the clowns,

the maze,

the Wonder Woman outfit,

The hot dress in Vegas,

Hot Blooded,

The fridge explosion,

her staying with him in the hospital,

Russ's sick daughter,

Baby Andy,

her father,

the trial,

her testimony,

her heart,

their friendship,

the diner,

the fries,

the beer,

the Founding Fathers,

his birthday,

Jared,

the drinking,

the night with scars,

Sweets,

the counseling sessions,

we're not a couple,

the "line,"

Cam,

his girlfriends,

her boyfriends,

their friends,

Angela,

her ex husband,

her scary father

, the almost wedding,

the bridesmaid dresses,

Hodgins,

his mansion,

conspiracy theories,

case theories,

suspect theories,

computerized theories,

relationship theories,

questions about love,

the baby promise.....

The coffee cup shattered to the floor, as Booth slipped off the bed to his knees. He gripped at the floor, desperately trying to get the spinning to stop. She rushed to be by his side, terrified, but the look on his face told her everything she needed to know.

She saw instantly on his face that he remembered, that he knew. All of his memories now threatened to drown them both. She looked into his eyes and he pulled away. He rolled back up onto his heels and just breathed one word. "Bones." She looked at him waiting for some kind of understanding. But all she saw on his face was pain. Pain that she had caused.

All this time he was the one with amnesia, but it was her past that had been haunting them.

She got up from the bed threw on her clothes and moved to leave.

He tried to reach her arm but she pulled it away, still moving toward the door. "I just need a minute…a minute to think." He called out to her. The front door closed. "WAIT!" He jumped from the bed.

But he was too late, she was already gone.

**AN: I tried to make the flood of memories be as stream of thought as possible, if you look there are connections between each memory. They are a string on inter-related moments. I also thought it made a nice visit to the cannon material. **

**I finished writing the story. I just need to revise and post! Let me know how you think it will end! **


	8. Running

Running

He sat in the apartment all day and waited. Once he had tried calling her cell phone, but the second he dialed he heard a familiar ring coming from the bedroom. He wondered if she had left it on purpose. This was her place she would have to come back sometime. He just had to be here when she did. For the remainder of the day he busied himself the best he could, doing things he didn't normally do. He did laundry, he lifted weights, he scrubbed the bathroom, and he tried to watch a ballgame. The day drug on forever and still there was no sign of her.

He paced the living room to the point where he feared that her hardwood floors would need refinishing. All the memories had flooded back at once. Things all seemed to fit mercifully into place, all things but Brennan...no Bones…no Brennan. Crap. She was like two different women, and yet not. For in each he saw glimpses of the other. Brennan was loving and protecting and kept secrets. Bones was brutally honest, and dedicated, and strong. Yet he had always seen Bones as loving in her own way. She would do anything to protect the ones she loved. And secrets….God love the secrets!

When she got in the SUV she just drove, trying to get as far away as she could, as fast as she could. It wasn't until she had reached the Maryland state line that she realized technically she was probably driving a stolen vehicle. This was his car. Funny how their lives had intertwined, her apartment, his car. They rarely went to his place, except to pack his everyday things. They never drove her car, unless she was going to work late. Even then he usually made some excuse to pick her up. So here she was a fugitive because in a panic she jumped into the wrong car. Instinct was a bitch.

Once again she was running away, and she didn't even have a destination. But that was the point wasn't it? Leaving, not going somewhere. There was nowhere she wanted to be. For a brief moment she thought about just turning around and heading back. Fleeing she hadn't grabbed any of her things, all she had was what she was wearing, her coat and her purse, she hadn't even grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand. What else did she need? Whatever she needed she could buy. So she kept driving, barely seeing the road in front of her through the tears.

Panic began to set in as night fell. She still hadn't come home, nor made any attempt to contact him. It seemed silly to worry everyone else, she was just blowing off steam, but he knew he had to start making calls. Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Max, Russ, Sweets. No one had seen her or heard from her. They all told him the same thing. This was typical. When Brennan panicked she ran. He was torn, did he try to go after her or wait patiently. Not knowing even remotely where to look he figured there was only one option.

At three o'clock in the morning he still sat wide awake, staring at the ceiling of their bedroom, her bedroom. A nagging feeling was at the pit of his stomach. Was she waiting for him to leave so she could reclaim her home alone? His apartment was still there on the other side of town, sitting nearly empty except for a few pieces of furniture and unwanted things. He hadn't slept there since the surgery. If she could run than so could he. Newly determined he got out of bed and started shoving his clothes in a blue duffel.

The sound of his cell phone surprised him. It was not even five o'clock in the morning. His heart racing he reached over and without even looking at the caller ID answered it. The voice on the other end wasn't the one he prayed for. "Booth, we need to leave right away, there has been an accident." Angela's words knocked the wind right out of him. He was out the door before he even hung up the phone.

They took a flight to Boston at 7 a.m. They didn't know why she had driven there, or where she was headed. They only knew that they had to get there as fast as possible. What had she been thinking? Was she alright? His head raced, the fear was agony. He looked over at Angela and knew she was going through the same thing. Only she didn't really know the reason they were here. That it was his fault. He had pushed her into running away. If anything happened to her he would never forgive himself.

Automatic doors slid open as the pair raced into the emergency room. It had been 5 hours since they had gotten the phone call, and still had been given very little information. They weren't even sure if she was alive. Booth pale with fear practically accosted the intake nurse for information. She was in curtain seven. Silently he pushed through the hospital ward and shoved open the curtain. She was laying in the bed, her right arm in a navy blue sling, a butterfly bandage across her left temple. Otherwise she seemed perfectly intact.

Worry turned into relief that quickly made its way to anger. "Temperance! How dare you run off like that. You could have gotten yourself or someone else killed! Do you know how worried we have been!" Angela shrunk back in horror at his tone. This was not going to be the tender moment she had anticipated. Something ugly had reared its head today.

Brennan's response was to stare blankly at him. Something about the cool icy blue of her eyes always made these looks unparalleled in intensity. "Not that it is any of your concern Booth. But I am sorry to have upset Angela." Her voice was as cool as his had been heated.

His face fell as the anger turned to disbelief, for the first time he realized her intent. They were over. She would allow no discussion, no do-over, no remorse. The walls that had been missing these past months had returned. Bones was back, and not even the Bones he knew so well. Bones his partner and friend had left along with Brennan. This was the Bones he first met five years ago. Cold, distant, solid and determined; he wasn't a part of this woman's life. How had she erected walls so quickly? It made him wonder if their partnership meant anything to her. He was lost, and there was only one thing he could do.

He left.


	9. Back to the Beginning

AN: Sorry this too so long to post. I went on an impromptu vacation. I love NYC especially on warm days, when it is Fleet Week, and Nicolas Cage is in town filming car chase scenes! But this is it...the conclusion!

Back to the Beginning

Angela called him at the office to say she had finally returned. The entire lab was very concerned, she was a shell of the woman they knew. One day she just showed up to work like nothing had happened. Like there had never been an accident, that there had never been a surgery, like there had never been a Booth at all.

He told her none of it mattered anyway and hung up the phone. Hey could hear Angela's pleading as he ended the call. His hand hadn't even let go of the phone when it started to ring again. The number showed it was an in-house number. Sweets. He refused to answer.

Perotta called in sick later that week, some sorry excuse about needing sinus surgery. She would be out of the office for ten days. Booth wasn't a trained FBI agent for nothing. He could smell a rat a mile away. He smelled rats. They all knew that her absence would leave him no excuse but to take over the two cases currently being investigated at the Jeffersonian. No one seemed to care that she didn't want to see him, or that he didn't want to see her. It was just too painful. Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone? He was enjoying his wallow in the land of self pity.

He took a steadying breath as he strode into the Jeffersonian. It was about the job, not her, focus on the job. The mantra didn't last long, it ended the moment he saw her. She was standing in the way he had watched her a hundred times before, mesmerized, so engrossed in her work that she was oblivious to the world around her. He had always loved to watch her work. The careful way she held each bone, looking at it with deep concentration that etched the perfect inverted V across her brow. He could almost see the internal monologue as she tried to puzzle out what tragedy had befallen the victim. She was so beautiful. His heart began to break. The truth hurt. He was completely and totally in love with her, always had been. With or without memories.

It was still strange to remember things so clearly. Remember all the times he stood at his distance and just absorbed her. The way she stood, the way she smelled. The funny faces she would make. That she had a special smile, just for him. How many times over the years had he stood in this spot wishing that things could be different? Hundreds.

In her element, her house of logic, he finally understood what had happened to them. A woman who follows ration and rules, she was forced to face that she had intentionally broken them both. When he had no memory he wasn't able to call her on the faults in her logic. Once the memories returned she had nothing to hide behind. She had broken their rules, the unspoken rules of partnership, and didn't have amnesia to be the scapegoat.

He coughed and she stirred. It was obvious that she wasn't herself. That would never have been enough to break her focus before. She looked up at him, her eyes taking a minute to register, and then slowly began to fill with tears. It had been nearly a month since she had last seen Seeley Booth. Doing what she did best, she turned to run. She darted like a frightened deer toward her office.

But he was faster. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached her just before she grasped the door. A hand on her waist, he spun her around and looked longingly at her face.

She spoke before he could. "Booth, just don't" she said quietly tears spilling down her cheeks. "It's okay, I understand, I am glad you remember, really I am. I'm busy. I'll wait for Agent Perotta to finish the case. What we had wasn't real, the memories have shown you that I am sure, it was playing, If was a fun game for a while, it was filling the void. I am sorry I smashed your SUV, I didn't want to make it any harder, I will pay for another, I really do understand…" His fingers rested on her mouth, an attempt to stop the rambling.

"First off." His voice was husky and quiet. "Understanding people don't cry. Second I do remember. I remember you. Every little detail of you that I quietly amassed over the past 5 years, each of your smiles, each of your tears, each time that you let me in just a little bit. I remember everything about us. Everything we went through. Everything I felt…for you." He paused as if not knowing how to say something. "I have always loved you. I loved you as Bones, I loved you as Brennan. I LOVE all parts of you now. It was just as Brennan you were so afraid of hurting me that you finally let ME in. As 'Brain Damaged Booth' I was able to finally forget that stupid line I had created and let YOU in. We weren't hindered by our past. It didn't matter what had been said or done in the past. We let it go. I don't care about who you were; it is the woman in front of me that matters. Don't you see how lucky we are? It was like being asleep and dreaming a beautiful dream, only to wake up and find something better is waiting for you. Don't you see, it wasn't a fake life, it wasn't a void. It was a dream, a beautiful dream of a life that we CAN have together. I don't care if we have to start over. We will go back to the beginning. I don't care if it takes 6 months or 6 years to find our way back. To fight our way back. I will never stop trying."

In that moment she did something he never expected. She finally understood. It never would have happened to the old Booth and Bones. She grabbed him by the shirt collar and crushing her lips against his, kissed him long and deep. Old Booth, New Booth; Bones or Brennan. It didn't matter they were meant to be, they were always meant to be. She didn't need to be sacred or to run, their past wasn't a burden, it was a gift.

From the lab down below a few close friends let out a spectacular cheer.

The center would hold.

The End

AN: So it is done. I hope you enjoyed my little take of what could be for these two. I wanted a nice ending for them, although I know it will still not be smooth. A leopard doesn't just change their spots now do they? I want to thank everyone who reviewed and who favorited. If you have been following along without saying anything that is still incredibly gratifying. If you liked this you might enjoy my other stories as well. Check them out!


	10. Hopefully Someday Patiently

**Author's Note: So this is really the end of this particular story. I hope that you enjoyed taking the trip with me. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed along the way. It was an amazing experience. I also want to thank all those that really own BONES for lending me their friends.**

Epilogue - Two years later

Hopefully Someday Patiently

Brennan had never told anyone about the story she so painstakingly typed in the hospital. The tale she had intricately woven in order to escape. At the time it hadn't mattered. She initially had hit the delete button, making all of the words instantly disappear, trying to make the images evaporate along with the words. But in the grief of those first few minutes, the loss of their memories, she didn't want to throw anymore of him away. The undo button was a true act of compassion by Microsoft. So the story had been retrieved, burned to a CD and once again deleted from the hard drive. It was only supposed to be for herself, something she could go to, to hide in when reality got too hard.

She had never told Booth, or Angela or anyone about her own private fantasy about the story where her hearts desire was fulfilled. There was never a mention about the nights when struggled with who they were, who they had become and she would silently creep to the living room to read and add and envelope herself in an easier version of a love story. It had been her salvation during that impossibly dark month after the accident and before their first real kiss. What had started out as a cathartic musing had been remolded into an actual novel.

The success of her Kathy Reichts books had her publisher hounding her night and day for at least a glimpse of a few chapters. But during those months with Booth and desperately trying to hold it together there wasn't time to maintain her old life, her new life, and the lives of Kathy and Andy. In an act of desperation she sent off the story of Bren and Booth at The Lab. Figuring that they would hate it, but it would at least buy her a few weeks.

It wasn't the first time Brennan had been wrong.

While they demanded a ridiculous amount of edits, they in fact loved it. It would seem that there were other notable murder mystery authors that dabbled in slushy sentimental romance, with amazing success. It was a bandwagon that her editor was more than happy to leap aboard. _Burdens That Allow Us To Fly_ was hyped to be the next evolution in author Temperance Brennan.

Here they were, nearly two years later; Bren and Mr. B, Brennan and Booth, Bones and Booth, Temperance and Seeley? No not definitely not Temperance and Seeley she thought with a smile. All the same the story had been written, and rewritten until it was deemed ready for her audiences. What she getting soft? Losing her edge? Did happiness change who she was as an author? She hoped so. She was no longer afraid of losing who she was, of finding an alternate path. The woman she was in the arms of Booth was the woman she was always meant to be. It is how you identify true love; it is in true love that we become the best versions of ourselves. Yes, it was a line from her book; it was a line that encompassed all that they were.

As he had with all her books, Booth had read it intently cover to cover, making little post-it notes on the margins. This time was different, now he got to read the story before it was sent to press. It was packing for this trip she had read his thoughts on the final manuscript and in those notes that she realized there was a perfect time for everything. On that small yellow scrap of paper tucked on a page toward the end of the story were three little words. _Hopefully Someday Patiently._ Three little words. She knew exactly what the moment would be, and what she would say.

He had come with her to New York for the book release. Being her official FBI partner definitely had its perks not the least was being able to travel with her. She had been the near victim of too many homicidal nuts and because her irreplaceable value to the FBI she now warranted an escort on out of town trips. He was always said escort and although it wasn't as intense as some of his other assignments it had quickly become his favorite part of the job. Brennan it seemed had a thing for hotel rooms.

A local nightclub had been re-imagined as The Lab for the launch party. For the first time she saw what her fantasies, her words could become if fleshed out into reality. It was actually quite startling and somewhat comical. They too were in character for the evening, although no one but she and Booth knew it. She had searched for two weeks for just the right outfits to set the mood. It recaptured a moment. Her vision was captured brilliantly right down to the band Gormagon. Of course Sweets wasn't the lead singer and none of the squints worked the bar but all had been invited and had come to the event.

So much had evolved since their perfect moment on the scaffolding of the lab. She would never forget his words that day nor the fact that it was the end of the beginning for them, the beginning of forever. His words had been magical _It was a dream, a beautiful dream of a life that we CAN have together._ Brennan knew that those words would comfort her for the rest of her days. At the time she hadn't even known that his words were the truth, only for her it wasn't a dream, it was a story. This story she had written, that he had dreamed, that they had shared, had somehow become a life.

Late into the night, after scores of important guests had begun to trickle home Booth and Brennan went in search of a little privacy. Brennan had a particular spot in mind, in fact her editor had it set up on purpose. Authors were known for odd requests. To have a private area, set in a particular way was not uncommon, although her specific parameters were a bit…odd. A small back room had been recreated into an office, just like the one in the story. What no one knew was that this was the location of the scene Booth had marked. She had in her hand the yellow note from the pages of her book. In response to his three carefully scribbled words she had a few of her own. Brennan wanted this to be the location to complete both of their stories, their dreams, their lives.

She carefully guides him into the room and playfully tosses him into the leather club chair that is in front of the office desk. She crawls into his lap. In an instant she sees that he recognizes the scene, the room the clothes. He grins and it makes her heart melt. It feels right to do this here, away from the lab, from the bodies, from the FBI. That part of their life isn't going anywhere, they are the center. But this moment doesn't belong there. He looks at her trying to hide is anticipation when she hands him a small bit of paper, his note on this particular scene, _Hopefully Someday Patiently_. His heart stops as he realizes that her handwriting has been added below his. _Life imitates art. _

Three words. Three words can change the world forever. It can send everything crashing into a million tiny pieces or tie two people together.

Who are you?

Hopefully Someday Patiently.

Life imitates art.

I love you.

I'll marry you.

Monumental moments that stem from so little. Three words. He looks deep into her blue eyes barely able to fathom the meaning, the moment of three little words. Three words. He needs to say three little words. Just three more and he will have everything the world in a single moment.

"Are you Pregnant?"

And it that moment as her lips crushed onto his and he gathered his wife into his arms, he knew that nothing else mattered, that no words were required. He had all the answers he would ever need.


End file.
